Spirit of War
by Cattew
Summary: War isn't fun. Sorry, I can't think of an adequate way to summarize this one. Please read and review!


Author's note: I hope I did my idea justice. I would greatly appreciate any and all reviews. As always, I don't own Hogan's Heroes or any of the characters. Merci!

"Dad! I'm going to join the Army!" Robert Hogan bounded into the living room, a pamphlet in his hand. His face was full of excitement as he ran up to his father, who was reclining on a chair trying to read the morning newspaper. His father looked at the boy next to him and put his newspaper carefully down onto the small table beside him.

"The Army? Are you sure that's what you want to do?" His father took the pamphlet and leafed through it. "It's dangerous, you know."

"I'm more than willing to die for this country!" Robert said, raising his hands to hold a pretend rifle, "Anyway, those turkeys wouldn't have a chance!" He mimicked shooting several long-range targets, and then grinned at his dad.

"I was in the Army during the Great War, Robert. The dying part's easy. That's not what you have to worry about." His father said, putting down the pamphlet and rubbing his eyes. Robert gave him a perplexed look, cocking his head slightly.

"What d'you mean?" He asked sitting on the couch opposite his dad. "Isn't that what you're afraid of? That I could die?"

His father chuckled, shaking his head. "Of course I'm afraid you'd die. But I'm more worried of the other things. Asking yourself if you are willing to die is easy. Now you've got to ask yourself: 'Am I willing to kill?"

Robert leaned his elbows onto his knees and clasped his hands in front of him, staying silent for a little while, deep in thought. His dad continued.

"You have to realize that you will have to look at another human being, probably a boy no older than yourself, and pull the trigger. You will see the life drain out of his eyes, and you will think of his family. You will realize that he's just like you, fighting for his country. You will have to do it again and again and again… and then you will have to live with all of those ghosts for the rest of your life. Their eyes will always haunt you. Are you ready for that?"

Robert lowered his head, shaking his head slightly, "I never thought about it like that… I-I don't know…"

o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o

Years later, as he creeps up behind a nearby sentry who's too close to his men, Robert can honestly say "no." He wasn't ready. The sentry turns, showing Robert a young boy, similar to the others who haunt his dreams. Robert slits his throat anyway.

o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o

Robert's dad leaned forward and put a hand on his son's shoulder. "Not only that, but once you rise in ranks and stop going into the field, you will have to send young boys out onto the battlefield to die instead. Every choice you make will mean life or death for more than a dozen men at a time, all of whom will trust you to make the right decision and bring them safely home. Every soldier who doesn't will be another ghost to add to your collection. Are you ready for that?"

"I-I-I don't know!"

o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o

Even before he got shot down, Robert knew he'd eventually have to stay behind at some point. When he began the operation at Stalag 13, before he managed to get the operation to move seamlessly, he often had to stay behind to deal with Klink or the guards. Now, he tries to go with his men as much as possible. But sometimes he can't.

Robert is tempted to throw the headset down at the radio, but he knows Kinch would kill him. He prepares to write the letter he'd hoped he'd never have to write, Simmon's face floating in his mind.

"I'm so sorry…"

o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o

Robert didn't look up, and his shoulders slumped slightly. Gone was the boyish excitement from earlier, instead replaced by the sobering reality of what lay before him. After a while, he spoke up.

"No. No, I don't think so." He said, standing up and grabbing the pamphlet. After another long look at it, he crumpled it up and threw it away into a nearby trashcan.

Robert Hogan decided that the Air Force would be a better way to serve his country. He wouldn't see his enemies' faces that way; he wouldn't be so close to those he killed. It's easier to fight from a distance, when all you're given are coordinates. He was right, for a little while.

But war is war, and now he's got his own collection of ghosts.


End file.
